


Trying Times

by krysnel_nicavis



Series: Porn on the Cutting Room Floor (and other places) [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Destiel - Freeform, Felching, Internalized Angst, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Episode: s12e09 First Blood, Romance, Top!Castiel, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, bottom!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 03:23:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10234736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krysnel_nicavis/pseuds/krysnel_nicavis
Summary: Castiel wanders the bunker after the Winchesters are finally back home safe – and alive – after being held in a secret government facility wondering about his place in the world. Dean makes an important decision.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Episode Tag:** 12.09: First Blood
> 
> Bottom!Dean and Top!Castiel is a new thing for me!

Two months.  It had been just a little over two months since they’d last seen or spoken to one another.  Dean had been in an above top secret federal lock-up facility and Castiel had been utterly powerless to do anything about it.

If he still had his wings…  If he hadn’t fallen…  If…

"It wasn’t on you,” Dean had gruffly said when Cas had voiced his self-doubt and was second guessing his own usefulness.  Even when he’d admitted to losing Kelly, Dean had simply stated in his no-nonsense, overtly masculine way that it wasn’t Castiel’s fault.  That it could have happened to anyone.

Anyone.

Castiel wandered through the empty halls of the bunker.  He had to keep reminding himself that it wasn’t truly empty.  Sam and Dean were safe and alive and _here_ in their beds.  In their home.  _Their_ home.

Castiel let out a heavy, weary sign.  He had hoped, once, that this might have been his home as well.  Back when he’d first fallen.  When all the angels had fallen and Castiel had become human for the first time.  When he’d had to try make his way to Dean, and Sam, on his own and he went by the name Clarence.

Then Gadreel had deceived Dean.  Played on the elder Winchester’s most basic need to protect and save his brother.  His need to keep what little bit of family he had left…  Family…

Castiel remembered back approximately eighteen weeks.  To that day.  The one where he’d been forced to say goodbye.  To just stand aside and watch as Dean Winchester sacrificed himself to save the world just one last time.  The final time.  And if the wrong reaper got a hold of his soul once he’d died, if _Billie_ got a hold of his soul…

Castiel physically shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts.  Dean was alive.  And he was home.  Instead, his thoughts turned to a little earlier on _this_ day.

They’d managed to locate the brothers with the assistance of the British Men of Letters.  While he had felt it was necessary at the time, he wondered now about possible repercussions from _asking_ for their help… he still believed it was worth it… especially given what came later.

Castiel took a deep breath, despite the fact that it was actually unnecessary, in an effort to calm his mind.  He thought back to the moment he’d _finally_ laid eyes on the Winchester men once more.  Dean had stopped in his tracks, almost as though he couldn’t believe his eyes.  Almost as though he was looking at something he desperately wanted and couldn’t fathom that he finally had it, thinking it was little more than a dream, a mirage of an oasis in the desert.  Almost…

Sam had reacted differently, but still a little unexpectedly.  Castiel still had a difficult time accepting that the man he’d written off so quickly upon first meeting him, a man whose faith was strong and pure despite the taint in his very blood, could still look at Castiel with the same level of reverence as he had that first day.  And layered into it was an affection he could not recall any of his angelic siblings ever displaying towards him – he wondered if the frequent “re-education” Naomi had alluded to had much to do with that.  Sam’s affection towards him only seemed to grow, regardless of how many times he managed to screw up.  Castiel admired the young man’s capacity to forgive but did not think his forgiveness was always warranted, or wise.

Sam’s capacity for forgiveness was really only matched by Dean’s capacity for loyalty.  For a man with so little faith in general, he developed such a strong, steady faith in those he deemed family.  It sometimes proved to be to a fault.  He had such an unswerving faith in those that he loved that when they let him down – and Castiel knew he himself had let the man down hard on more than one occasion – he took it so much to heart that it was a wonder his heart hadn’t completely shattered beyond repair.

And he almost lost them.  Again.  Almost lost _Dean_ again.  He remembered the, then, indecipherable looks Dean had given him in the car.  And when it stopped on its own…

His troubled mind continued down shadowed paths despite his attempts to focus on the positive side of things.  He found he could not stop his thoughts from wandering.  He—

“Cas?”

Castiel turned back to the doorway that had just opened as he passed. “Hello, Dean.”

“Cas, what are you doing?”

The once respected Angel of the Lord and Commander of his Garrison looked into the striking green eyes of the hunter he’d once held tight to his breast as he escaped the demonic legions he’d fought his way past just to find, to _save_.  His stained and tortured soul had been baptised in hellfire and stitched back together with grace.  It was battered and bruised and tainted and scorched… but to Castiel, it remained the most beautiful soul in all of creation.  He was once the Righteous Man.  The Michael Sword.  While he had once been a demon, he had been possessed by neither angel nor demon.  Had existed in on four separate planes of existence – heaven, hell, purgatory, and earth… in life and in death.  He had once even been the bearer of a Horseman’s ring.  In Castiel’s mind, he was still the Righteous Man.

“I…”

Dean’s questioning gaze shifted to one of understanding.  He seemed to be considering something as he studied Castiel’s expression.  What he was trying to discern, the angel could not even begin to guess.

“Come here,” Dean said, his voice low and rough.  He extended a hand out towards Castiel, his expression unsure but laced with determination.  Whatever he’d been considering, he’d come to a decision.  Castiel stared into the man’s eyes a moment longer before wordlessly reaching out and placing his own hand in his Righteous Man’s grasp.

Dean pulled him into the room, shutting the door and engaging the lock.  They stood in Dean’s bedroom, staring into each other’s eyes, hands still held between them.  They both wanted to say something but neither of them could find the right words to adequately convey what they wanted… what they both wanted.

“Dean, I…”  He didn’t know how to continue.  He didn’t deserve what he wanted.

Dean took a breath and opened his mouth to say… something, but words wouldn’t come.  He sighed instead and simply stared at Castiel with what could only be described as a wry expression. “We both know I’m crap when it comes to words.”  Castiel could only huff in response, a small, endearing grin tugging at his mouth.

Instead of speaking, Dean stepped closer into Castiel’s personal space.  He studied his friend’s face with a searching look before pressing his lips to Castiel’s, finding the angel’s to be chapped.  He cupped his right hand behind his head, threading his fingers in the short strands of dark hair.  He ran is tongue along the bottom lip, slipping it past and mapping the contours of the fallen angel’s mouth when said angel gasped.  He didn’t even try to supress a shiver when Cas pulled the tie on his dead guy’s robe open and slipped a hand up onto his left bicep, sending a tingling shock through his skin, leaving a buzz akin to a low grade electrocution.  He let out a gasp of his own and wrapped his left arm around Cas’ waist, underneath his ever present trench coat and pulled the once and former human flush against him.

They pulled apart just far enough that their noses brushed, their breath ghosting on each other’s skin. “I’m absolute crap when it comes to words,” Dean breathed. “But, if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s act.”  He leaned back in and reclaimed Castiel’s lips, exchanging noisy open-mouthed kisses, causing the being in his arms to tremble and gasp and press closer into him.

Dean wasted little time pushing the tan trench coat off Castiel’s shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.  The suit jacket soon followed.  His robe then pooled around his feet as his angel mirrored his movements, still taking cues from him after all these years.  He guided his angel to the bed, clothing being scattered over the floor with every shuffled step they took, lips finding each other as each article was removed and either dropped or tossed aside.

Castiel lay on his back in the center of Dean’s bed, hands raised above his head as he watched Dean climb on and kneel between his spread knees, taking in the man’s strongly built frame, slight tummy, and – lower – decidedly proud and full erection.  Dean was curved, nearly as much as Castiel, and thick.  He may not sweat, but his body flushed pink, darkening as the hunter place callous roughed hands onto his smooth, muscular thighs, caressing the skin with his thumbs.

“How can you be completely covered from the neck down and still have a perfect tan?” Dean observed with a grin as he took in the naked form below him. “And no tan lines either.”

“Uh,” Castiel gasped lightly, taking a shuddering breath at the warmth of the palms and the light caresses on his thighs. “I-it’s a by-product of my grace being evenly distributed through this body for so many years,” he explained as Dean ran just his fingertips along his outer thighs. “An…” he gulped as Dean’s fingers trailed along the grooves of his hips, brushing the dark hair that lead from his bellybutton to his groin. “And it’s been a non-traditional vessel since the end of the Apocalypse.”

Dean tilted his head, taking the mostly erect member into his hand and lightly squeezing it before giving it a few experimental tugs. “How?”

“O-oh…” Castiel gasped. “U-um… Wh-when thi- when _I_ was rebuilt a-after Luc-” He gave a startled moan as Dean skilfully stroked him into full hardness. “Structurally I’m-” A tiny whine escaped his throat.

“Yes, Cas?” Dean lowered himself onto the bed between Castiel’s legs, giving him a look that conveyed the earnest wish to devour.

“Um, well, I- o- _oh sonofa-_ ” Castiel groaned as Dean took his hard cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head and along the slit, still stroking with one hand as he braced against Castiel’s hip with the other.  The angel tossed his head back, eyes screwing shut as the hunter sucked half his length down before pulling almost completely off then going back down again.  He grasped the pillow beneath his head with both hands and bit his lip at the electrifying sensation of _that_ hot mouth around him.  His eye opened when the heat disappeared and he watched as Dean partially stood from the bed with a grin and retrieved a bottle with the word _Astroglide_ written on it from his bedside table.  Castiel bit his lip again and blushed.  He knew what this was for.  He watched as the hunter returned to his kneeling position and poured some of the lubricant onto his fingers.  He was then surprised when Dean winked and reached down and began prepare _himself_.

It was a wonderful sight, watching Dean stretch himself open.  The hunter bit his bottom lip and looked at Cas with lust darkened, half lidded eyes.  Dean poured more lubricant onto his fingers, rubbing them together before coating Castiel’s member.  Castiel’s hands came up to rest on Dean’s hips as the man moved to straddle him, positioning them so the tip of his cock pressed against Dean’s entrance.

“Cas,” Dean rasped as they gazed into each other’s very beings.

“Dean.”

“I…” He bit his lip when the words wouldn’t come.  Instead, he braced himself with one hand clasped to Castiel’s forearm and lowered himself carefully onto the angels hot shaft, pausing when the head passed his ring, gasping.  Castiel gulped and let out a shaking breath.  Dean slowly worked himself onto Castiel until he was fully seated.  Castiel couldn’t help the gasping groan that escaped his throat.  It was so tight.  So _hot_.  So much different than the last time he’d done this – the _only_ time he’d done this – with the reaper woman.  So much… _better_.  Dean took a few gasping breaths, grasping onto Castiel’s wrists where they clung to the hunter’s hips, then lifted himself up, Castiel’s cock sliding out until just the mushroomed tip remained inside him, and slowly lowered down again.  The spring mattress below the newer memory foam one creaked slightly with the movement.  He sighed when Castiel was fully sheathed inside him again, eyes falling shut and head tilting back.  Castiel held on as he did it again.  And again.  Slowly, so deliciously, excruciatingly slowly.

Without meaning to, Castiel’s hips rolled on a downward stroke and Dean’s breath hitched before he let out an audible moan.  The second time was on purpose.  Castiel didn’t let go of Dean’s hips as the man quickened his pace, bracing one hand on Cas’ abdomen and riding him like one of those mechanical bulls Castiel had seen in several bars and pubs across the country in his time on earth.

The room filled with the sounds of mattress springs squeaking, skin slapping on skin, deep, throaty moans, and copious amounts of swearing and affirmations.  The scent of their combined hormones and Dean’s sweat permeated the air.

Castiel could feel the apex of his passion approaching and reached for Dean’s hardened length where it bobbed near their abdomens but Dean grasped his hand and pinned it up hear his head, lacing their fingers together.

“Almost there,” he grinned as he thrust down onto his new lover’s throbbing cock.  Castiel thrust his hips upwards bringing loud, grunting, moans from his human’s throat.  Just as he was sure he was about to burst, he watched as his hunter, his Righteous Man, his everything, reached his own climax and came untouched, ropes of pearly white ejaculate spattering both their chests and abdomens.  Dean ground down on him, riding out his orgasm.  Castiel followed immediately after, painting Dean’s insides with his hot semen.  Dean groaned in satisfaction, continuing to ride Cas until the angel groaned in his own satisfaction.  Dean leaned forward to partially lay on Castiel’s side, keeping his lover inside him. “Hi,” he breathed, nuzzling Castiel’s cheek.

Castiel huffed, a grin on his face. “Hi.”

They lay there, arms around each other, languidly kissing until Castiel’s softened member slipped from Dean’s wonderfully used hole.  Dean groaned at the loss, feeling his lover’s seed spilling out of him.  Castiel moved out from under Dean, encouraging him to remain on his stomach.

“Cas, wha—”

“I watched humanity for many years,” Castiel explained as he moved to kneel behind Dean, repositioning him so that he was face down on his knees with his ass in the air. “And there’s something I’ve kind of always wanted to try.”

“Wha- _oh_ ,” Dean gasped.  It shifted to a moan as he felt his lovers tongue lapping at his entrance, cleaning up all the spilling semen.  He tensed and pushed more of it out, Castiel groaning as he licked it all up, gently thrusting his tongue into the still stretched hole.  When he was finished he kissed the flesh of his hunter’s ass before crawling up to lay next to him, pulling the man back into his arms.

Dean smiled tiredly at him, cuddling into his side – though he was sure the man would deny it was cuddling later.  “Why now?”

The thirty-eight-year-old Winchester didn’t even pretend he didn’t know what Castiel was referring to. “Two months alone with nothing but what’s in my head for company is a long time. Nothing but myself and everything I regret,” he sighed. “And at the end of it I almost died… _again_.” Castiel tightened his hold at the thought. “We’ve died enough without at least trying. That topped my regret list. Not trying.”  His speech slurred with sleep and Castiel held him close as he drifted off.  Not bothering to move, Cas snapped his fingers and used his grace to cover them both with a blanket.

He knew Dean was displeased (at the very least) with him killing Billie, but tonight at least they got the chance to try.

-30-


End file.
